


..Uh. Suggest a name?

by Ralph877



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, F/M, Fowl language(And bad puns!), Gen, Mature themes(And lostsa action), OkayIdonewithyoutagsyerannoying, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralph877/pseuds/Ralph877
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I will get to this, when I finish this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	..Uh. Suggest a name?

“And the winner is,.....Athar-942!”

 

The cheers and cries fail to bring Athar-942 to do his victory roar. How many matches had he been in since he got here? A dozen? Two dozen? It all ends the same...Him being on top, because he's the one with the microbots in his veins..

 

Trudging back to his room, a stone prison cell basically, Athar fails to realize how highly revered he is by the general public. They want him to help them... But he's trapped. His room is just a shabbily decorated prison cell, and as he flops onto the bed, he wonders.

 

Why would they force him to use melee weapons? They have guns! Yet he can't use them! Is he too powerful? To strong to compete? But, all the wondering leaves his head, only for him to remember, how he got in this cell in the first place...

 

Time fades, as it comes flooding back.

 

 

“Adran! Adran we have to run now! They're too strong! ADRAN!”

 

“Gimme 5 more bullets! FIVE BULLETS! I can still kill it! Selier, come on I can- Wh? AA- AAARGHHH!” That's when the communication went out, and the rest of the squad, including his lover, Selier Reliytre, lost contact with Adran Vaculs, son of medical departments head, Venaf Vaculs.

 

Venaf was a strict man to his son, but a doting father in younger years. He dearly loved Adran, and the news of his death and sight of his lifeless corpse, rocked hm to his very core. He frantically began pouring all his spare money and extra research funds into finding away to bring his son back to the living world. After months of sleepless night, he found it. Biorobtics and chemicals. If he could make these small enough to travel the blood stream, he could have his son back. In a vat, he restiched his body, and rebuild his body, part by part, and reconnected all his nerves and veins, making sure the body was perfect, almost like it was.

 

Unfortunatley, after Adran was revived, he has no TRUE memories of his old life, only voiceless visions and images. Venaf, in his feeling of failure to his son, named him Athar-942, and kept him for a year as a assistant, teaching him how to repair himself and such. On Adran, now Athar-942's 19th birthday, Venaf sold him into slavery, unable to deal with the pain and feeling of his failure to Adran. After staying in slavery for 6 years, two scrappy buisnessmen, who's names he never really gave a shit about anyway, bough him, with the hopes of recreating the Roman Colosseum.

 

Well, it worked! Here he is in this shit hole only able to remember waking up in a vat of fucking green goo, and now he rips guts n shit out of every motherfucker they throw at him hourly! It's like they never truly gave a shit about him! If only he could remember who, what, or WHERE these memories take place, he could go back, and kill every last fucker that abandoned him to his, especially that medical head guy who sold him after ALL he did for him....

 

A sharp squealling of metal scratching and grinding against metal disturbed Athar from one of his many angry mental ramapges and slaughters. The sound of sone wraping metal in it's strong embrace confirm it for him, one of those buisnessman pricks must be opening his cell to brag to him of filthy stinging rich he's making them by fucking everone over that entertains the shit-for-brains public. Well he won't listen to it anymore, without opening his eyes, he starts shouting

 

"I will say this for the LAST FUCKING TIME before I slaughter you. I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HOW YOU SHITBAGS ARE MAKING FUCKING FORTUNES OFF MY ASS! FU-"

 

Before he can finish a delicate finger slides over his lips and a calm and quiet voice hushes him. When the hand withdraws, he opens his eyes slowly, to find it's Merith, his medic. She visits him after every match, not only patching him up, but also staying to talk to him about how he's feeling and what's troubling him. She's been a comfot to him in this horrible place, just like that one woman in most of his visions was. That woman had stayed in his vision, with him until it fades. Athar hopes weakly that maybe Merith will stay with him just like that woman. In a calmer tone, he looks up at her, and whispers quietly.

 

"I'm sorry Merith. This whole, arena thing is getting to me. Nothing bad today, you can leave it if you want. I just really need to talk."

 

Merith covers her mouth with her hand, stiffling a giggle. "You? The big Athar-942 needing a chat? That's unheard of!" She took out bandages from her medical case, and began patching up his cuts. Even though he had the littlle bots to help him heal, she always patched him up. Was it an act of equality to regular humans, or just force of habitual kindess? He never knew, and never cared either way. As long as she was there to talk to him, he was good. But, should he tell her what he was thinking? That he was thinking about escaping? Well, It was worth a shot either way...

 

"Merith, what would you say about running away? Escaping this shithole with me? I can't take this anymore. And I know you're trapped here just like me, I've seen the way these shits treat you..."

 

Indeed, he has. It's not a pretty sight. The ringleaders, if going into a cell, sometimes force the nurses to pleasure the fighters, and them. It's a horrible practice, and they force Merith more because of her pretty face. Her reaction started out as surprise, and then to shame, knowing exactly what he was talking about. In a sudden movement, she floped next to him on the bed, sobbing into his chest. Her pent up frustrations being let out. Inbetween sobs, she responds to his question.

 

"Oh god, Athar..I need to. I need to escape. This place is just horrible. But I don't know how to escape. I have no skills that would help me at all. I know secret exits, but they're heavily guarded by mutants trained by the ringleader's beastmaster."

 

Athar was taken aback by her sudden outburst, and started thinking. If he could sneak an extra weapon in his coat, he ould fight his way out! But that could hurt Merith. Maybe he could use stealth, but the mutans have a high sense of smell, and are utterly hard to kill. He was put up against one recently. Not a pretty sight. The onl way that he could possibly escape with Merith, is if he got her to sneak him over a gun... Then say he's going to the infirmary so he can start the slaughter.

 

Comforting her gently, Athar gulps nervousluy "Merith, could you possibly sneak me a gun? If you can, then you can say I need the infirmary, and I can fight our way out of here! I know it'll work if you can get it. It's the only way so you won't get hurt..."

 

Her surprised reaction showed that he may have hit a bad spot. However, her sudden smile sparked something, and she clapped her hands quickly "Of COURSE! Why didn't I think of that? I can easily sneak a pistol out for you! Then we can finally be rid of this place!" She hugged him, and Athar sat there awkwardly. He wasn't use to this phsyical closeness, except from the woman in his vision. Strangley she seemed to get blood on her whenever she did that. What kinda shit was he on to dream that anyway? Either way, Merith bounced up, and grabbed her bag

 

"After this match I'll have the gun for you. So we can finally escape! Oh god, you're an angel Athar."

 

She ran out, and the guards walked in a minute later, the leader sighing "Athar-942. Your next match is almost prepared. We come with the weapon choices. You will be facing an armored Fliter."

 

Fliters. He hated the things. Always flitting around, hard to hit. He'll need a wide ranged weapon if he wanted to hit them properly. The gurds presented the 5 weapons. A kukri, a mace, morningstar, two headed axe, and a crossbow.. The kukri and mace were fast to swing, but not a wide enough range to hit the flitters after they jump back. And a morningstar is constant momentum, so it'll be impossible to aim acuratley. The crossbow had enough power to be deadly, but he wasn't a fast enough shot with one to hit the damn thing. His only option was to go with the doubleheaded axe, and hope to hell he can hit the thing hard enough to shatter the armor.

 

After Athar straped the weapon to his back, the guards took a metal stock, and clamped it over his wrists. They walked him to an elevator, and walked him over to the gates. As they got closer, the audible sounds of cheers for blood can be heard. They al knew his name by now. Athar-942, the luckiest bastard to still be alive in the Arena. This was it. His final match. All he has to do is beat the damn thing, then fight all these guards, then he and Merith can finally be free. It seemed so simple, such an easy task, and a tough enemy was perfect to get his adrenaline pumping.

 

Still, despite this he feels....odd. This seems too coincidentalfor him to be comfortable. Why would hey send an armored flitter in if he just fought a group of prisoners? Too coincidental, as iff they're trying to take him out, as if they KNOW. They CAN'T know, he was in his CELL. "I'm just being silly. We were quiet, they could never have known." He grumbles to himself, as the elevator buzzes, having reached the top. The remote control on the stock activates. Once the elevator doors close, only then do they release the stocks, a common precaution. Never really understood why they did it to him, he never rebelled early on. But, the other participants must be getting rowdy and it's standard procedure now...

**Author's Note:**

> I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR HEARTBREAK FOR THIS BEING A WIP


End file.
